


When the sea calls your name

by Nary



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Ambition, Banter, Biting, F/M, Insults, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pregnancy Fantasy, Sarcasm, Sibling Incest, Snark, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-08
Updated: 2011-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon cursed every god he could think of for making this glorious woman his sister. But then, it seemed as though that didn't much matter to her, and he was beginning to forget just why it had seemed to matter so much to him only a short while ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the sea calls your name

The pounding waves kept Theon awake. Outside, a storm was skirting the Iron Islands, sending fierce winds onshore and spattering the Bloody Keep of Pyke with rain that fell sideways. But wind and rain they had at Winterfell too, and he knew it was the constant hush and crash of the sea itself that disturbed his rest. _A true ironborn man would listen to that sound like his mother's lullaby_ , he thought bitterly, pulling the blankets over his head in a futile attempt to muffle the sound.

What it _did_ muffle was the sound of someone entering his room, and the light footfalls crossing the rush-strewn floor. When the rope-slung mattress sagged with the weight of a second person, Theon threw back the covers, startled. "Who's there?"

"Shh," murmured a woman's voice. "I've come to warm your bed, my lord." Her hands were strong against his chest as she pressed him firmly back down onto his pillow, then straddled his hips.

One of the serving wenches? Theon wondered. _That girl with the lazy eye and the teats near as big as her head, I hope._ But no. The breasts his hands sought and cupped were small, high, and pointed beneath a thin linen shift, the nipples hard from the cold that always permeated the rooms in spite of the braziers. "Tell me your name," he said, even as he was finding the bottom edge of that shift and pushing it up past her waist.

"You mean to say you don't recognize me?" she replied, and bent to kiss him, parting his lips with a smooth thrust of her tongue. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the faint light from the banked fire in the hearth, and he could tell that her hair was short-cropped and dark, and her nose cast a shadow that…

"Seven hells!" He pushed her off him, and she tumbled to the mattress, laughing.

"You swear like a greenlander, little brother."

Flustered, he pulled the covers up to his chest, concealing the erection that had sprouted when she kissed him. "Get out," he told her curtly.

"Why should I?" She rolled onto her side, hooked her fingers under the heavy wool blankets and began slowly dragging them down again. "Not all of you wants me gone, that much is clear." She flicked the head of his rigid cock lightly with one finger, making it quiver like a plucked string.

"You're sick. You disgust me."

"Hmm, I might have to grant you the first. But as for the second, you always seem to like me well enough before you know who I am. Come," she cajoled him, "you can call me Esgred if you wish. It doesn't matter to me." She knelt beside him, drawing up her shift until he could make out the slender, white columns of her thighs, the black thicket where they met…

Theon looked away, gritting his teeth. "Take your gaping cunt elsewhere, you bitch. I won't dip my oar in such bilgewater."

She cuffed him across the head, hard enough to make his eyes water and his ears ring. "Speak nicely to your sister, boy. Or do you want to make an enemy of me?"

"You already _are_ my enemy, if Father means to pit us against each other."

"Oh, pay no mind to anything Father says most of the time - he's a bold man, not a wise one. There's no reason we can't work together and both get what we want."

Theon frowned, still rubbing his sore ear. "What do you mean?"

"Try using the _big_ head for a few minutes, Theon," she said, exasperated. "I've got the men and the ships, but you've got a knowledge of the green lands I don't. There are enough castles in the North for each of us to have as many as we can hold. We don't need to squabble over these rocks when we can carve their kingdom up like a beached whale."

"But I _want_ these rocks," he said, realizing that he sounded like a petulant child.

Asha only laughed. "If you insist on doing this the hard way, of course we can. But I warn you, little brother, no one here will back you when the time comes. Not dressing like a dandy and smelling like…," she leaned in to sniff him, "… a maiden."

"What should a king smell like, then, dead fish?"

"Nonsense. He should smell of salt and sea." She brought a finger to his lips and he breathed in the scent of her quim before she slid it into his mouth for him to suckle on. He tasted the ocean in her.

"Asha," he murmured once she'd withdrawn her finger from between his lips, "it's not right."

She scoffed. "The rules for kings aren't the same as those for ordinary men. The Targaryens wed brother to sister."

"So you're planning to make me a king?"

"Well, one of us, at least" she said, and even in the faint light he could make out her smirk. "Let me see what kind of a man they've made of you." He didn't resist when she drew back the blankets this time, though his skin prickled with gooseflesh in the chill air. "You've fallen to half-mast," she teased when she saw him drooping.

"Raise me up again, then," he told her, bringing her hand to his cock. Her palm was calloused but warm, and she gripped him tightly as she stroked him back to fullness. Then, in the blink of an eye, she stripped off her nightshift, leaving her lean, strong body bare and limned in fire by the faint glow of the hearth. She stretched, shaking out her short hair, and Theon cursed every god he could think of for making this glorious woman his sister. But then, it seemed as though it didn't much matter to her, and he was beginning to forget just why it had seemed to matter so much to him only a short while ago. Especially when she leaned down to take him in her mouth, swallowing his yard down to the base. She sucked him expertly, teasing him with her tongue. "Gods, yes," he groaned, tangling his fingers in her short hair to slow her down.

When she pulled up, the air was instantly freezing on his spit-slick cock. "Quick, put me back someplace warm," he pleaded.

"I don't know… A certain word is ringing in my ears… I think it was 'bilgewater'?"

"I didn't mean it," he told her, "I was only trying to make you angry. I don't care who else you've fucked."

"Good, because I've long since lost count." She slung her leg over him again, taking his cock in hand and rubbing herself eagerly against it.

Theon felt as though he might spend before he even got inside her, which would have been a true shame. "Ease off," he told her.

Asha laughed, but settled to stillness, crouching atop him. "Make up your mind. What is it you want from me, darling brother?" she asked, making the endearment sound positively filthy.

"I want to… I want you to…" Words failed him, so instead of talking, he hauled her down to the mattress and wrestled his way on top of her. She put up a token fight, enough so that he suspected that if she'd truly been trying to resist he wouldn't have been able to force her, but she opened her legs for him, and at the end of the playful struggle he was poised at her entrance. "What do _you_ want?" he asked, his fingers slipping between her parted lower lips. She was silky-wet, and he heard a sharp, shuddering intake of breath as he toyed with her clit.

"I would have thought," she said when she'd regained her composure, "that by now it would be pretty damn obvious what I want," and she wrapped her legs around him to pull him down and into her. She wasn't tight by any means, and so ready that he slid in effortlessly, but he soon discovered she could squeeze him like a fist. "You did say you liked a woman with a good grip," she teased.

"Unh… you'll have to let me loose, sister, or I won't be able to fuck you until you're begging for mercy."

That made her laugh again - gods, he could have fallen in love with that sly laugh, if it had belonged to anyone else - and she loosed him, saying "I never beg for mercy."

"Does that mean I can do whatever I wish with you?" He squeezed one of her breasts, pinching the puckered nipple hard between his fingers.

"Hardly. It just means that if I don't like what you're doing, I'll find a more…efficient way to let you know." She made as if to kiss him, but instead sucked his lower lip between her teeth and gave it a sharp nip.

"Ow!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby," she said, and he abruptly remembered how she used to call him a baby when they were small, and say he couldn't play with her. "That was nothing - I can be much rougher. Much. Here, did I tell you to stop? That was just a demonstration." She rocked her hips to encourage him to go back to his steady thrusts.

 _I'm fucking my sister,_ he thought, feeling oddly detached from the knowledge, as if it was happening to someone else. _My sister is fucking me. Those are Asha's fingers digging into my shoulders, Asha's legs around my back, pulling me into her._ Repeating the thought made him feel uncomfortable - a combination of disgust, anxiety, lust, and the thrill of the forbidden mingling uneasily in his chest. "This is wrong," he told her, still sheathed deep within her.

"Oh, Theon…" She traced a line along his jaw, almost tenderly. "Of course it's wrong. That's why it feels so _good_. Don't you ever do anything you're not supposed to?"

"Of course," he said, bristling slightly. "But this goes a shade beyond sneaking biscuits from the kitchen, don't you think?"

"Gods, you're like a little boy! Too many questions," she said sharply. "Stop talking, you're putting me out of the mood." She clutched him tight to her and rolled the pair of them over so that she was on top, then planted her salt-roughened hands firmly on his chest. "Just let me…" she murmured, and began to ride him, slowly at first, her head tilted back and eyes closed.

Theon did his best to stop thinking about what this meant, but it was impossible. "Do you fuck our uncles too?" he asked, jolting her out of her reverie.

"I thought you didn't care who I fucked."

"I don't, I'm just curious whether this is the first time you've..."

She smiled, pausing in her motion. "Which of them do you think would want me? Victarion? Rodrik? …Father?" She arched an eyebrow suggestively.

"I… don't know," he said, feeling vaguely ill. "Maybe I don't want to know."

"Then be careful what you fish for, Theon. Ignorance is bliss. Mmm, much like this," she said, beginning her slow rocking once more. "Use your fingers on me while I ride you," she told him.

"No."

"Oh, you're such a spoilsport. I'll just do it myself, then." He watched as she brought her hand down between her legs, stroking and teasing, a self-satisfied smile on her lips. Against his will, he was drawn into the sight, the casual ease with which she pleasured herself. _So sure of herself, of what she wants,_ he thought. _Why can't I be more like her?_ It was because she was a kraken, born of the salt sea, to reave and pillage and take, and he was… he wasn't sure what he was any longer. _Damn wolves,_ he thought blurrily, _show them_ , and pushed his sister's hand out of the way so he could finger her himself. Asha laughed, low in her throat, and a few moments later he felt her peak, wringing him hard as she came. It barely slowed her down, though, and she was soon back to her steady rhythm atop him.

"Do I need to pull out when…?" he asked. He could tell he wasn't too far away from his own climax.

"No fear," she told him. "Unless, of course, you'd _like_ your seed to grow in me." She studied his face carefully. "Would you like that, Theon? To see me swell big with your baby, suck the mother's milk from my breasts?"

He thought again of Esgred, that dream of a woman, and how she'd told him she was new with child, how much he'd found that thought aroused him. And Asha was Esgred, in a way, and here she was, mounted atop him, clutching hard at his shoulders, her pretty little teats jiggling with each thrust, her face soft with her release, and maybe he _would_ plant a child in her, like the dragon-kings used to with their sisters, and… and… Theon screwed his eyes shut and gasped, wordless but far from silent, as the wave crashed over him and the sea called his name, blessing them both with salt-milk and sweat.

After, she slipped off him and fumbled in the dark to retrieve her shift. "You wouldn't really, would you?" he asked her.

"What?"

"Have my child."

"Oh, not bloody likely," she said, smoothing her hair as she crossed the chamber toward the door. "I know how to brew moon tea. And I'm far too busy to deal with babies now." She looked back at him over her shoulder. "But someday, who knows? We'll need an heir to the kingdom we're going to build, brother." He wasn't sure if she was teasing him or not, and he didn't get a chance to ask her before she left.


End file.
